The One That Got Away
by BlueNeutrino
Summary: Garrett Jacob Hobbs has a type. A type that Bella Swan just happens to match.


**A/N: Set during Bella's depressed **_**New Moon **_**phase, because Charlie thought it would be a good idea for her to visit Renee in a new city to cheer her up. Not that it worked.**

_**The One That Got Away**_

A sector shaped field sits expectantly beneath a dull grey sky, contained within a stadium fitted neatly to its edges. Sounds flood the space surrounding it; footsteps and shuffles and shouts layering one upon the other to construct an incoherent cacophony of noise. Feet and bodies swarm over the plastic and metal structures ascending outwards from the sides of the field, people jostling and rearranging to get food, meet friends or find a seat before the game. Among the crowd, each individual figure traces its own distinct path. A girl glances back over her shoulder to the predatory eyes that watch from high up in the bleachers, bearing down on her like a bird of prey. She sees, and then turns away again.

Her path takes her downward, to a corner seat three rows from the front where another girl is sat. She clears her throat and speaks, close enough to be heard over the noise. "Hey, mind if I join you? My dad bailed on me and I have no one to sit with."

The second girl glances up at her briefly, her expression passive and indifferent. "Yeah, sure." The apathetic answer is accompanied by some shuffling as the second girl inches sideways to allow the first space to sit down. The first girl takes a seat beside her. From a distance, they're interchangeable: same age, same slim build, same long brown hair. There's nothing particularly distinguishing about either of them.

The first girl takes a breath and introduces herself, her tone deceptively friendly. "I'm Abigail, by the way."

"Bella."

The second girl isn't generous with words, and she says no more. Around them the stadium continues to be filled with noise, but between the girls there is silence.

Abigail swallows and tries again, determined not to let the conversation die. "So are you a Suns fan?" she asks, looking at Bella's baseball shirt. "There don't seem to be too many of them here."

Bella glances down, as if only now realising what shirt she's wearing. "Oh. Um… yeah, I guess. My stepdad plays for the team."

"Really? That's neat. So do you travel round with them then?"

"No, I live with my dad. My mom travels with them and I'm just visiting her."

"You ever been to Minneapolis before?"

"No."

Bella's responses are all flat, indicating she doesn't really want to talk, and it makes Abigail nervous. No matter how difficult Bella makes it, Abigail knows she can't just give up and let her be. If this one slips away _he _won't be happy, not after the last one…

"Oh. Well, how long are you in town for?"

"Just a couple days. I'm flying back to Washington tomorrow."

They continue to talk, Abigail extracting reluctant answers from Bella like drawing water from a stone, but it's enough water to quench her thirst. At length, Bella's mother joins them and the game begins. Some time later it concludes with a victory for the Saints. Bella doesn't look too disappointed, although her mother does. Abigail cheers for the Minneapolis team, but it's a hollow enthusiasm masking the sickening anxiety that's reverberating around her ribcage.

As the crowd begins to disperse the girls say goodbye, Bella leaving with her mother while Abigail makes her way back to where her father waits. Garrett Jacob Hobbs is standing apart from the rest of the crowd exiting the stadium, lurking in the shadows while he watches like a hawk for his daughter. He looks at her expectantly as she approaches, and she swallows to alleviate the tightness in her throat. Quietly, she relays to him what she knows: where Bella's staying, what time her flight is, that she'll be getting a taxi to the airport…

When Abigail's finished, her father reaches out to put an arm around her shoulder and draws her close to him. "Good girl," he whispers as he plants a kiss on her forehead, inhaling the scent of her hair. For the first time that day Abigail relaxes. She lets out a breath and the tension in her shoulders eases. It's okay. She's safe. Her father loves her and she's safe.

"Tomorrow," her father mutters purposefully to her, before leading her to the car to take her home. The word sounds like a promise. "Tomorrow."

The phonecall from the man with the unusual accent comes before that promise can be fulfilled.


End file.
